


Aquarius Antiques

by torino10154



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Career Change, Ficlet, Gen, Gen Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28569570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torino10154/pseuds/torino10154
Summary: Unbeta'd. Found this one in my "bunnies" folder from 2015 just like yesterday's. This was originally intended forsnape_potter's Odd Jobs Fest but never reached the Snarry stage.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Aquarius Antiques

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Found this one in my "bunnies" folder from 2015 just like yesterday's. This was originally intended for **snape_potter** 's Odd Jobs Fest but never reached the Snarry stage.

Harry arrived at _Aquarius Antiques_ , record albums tucked under his arm. He wasn't interested in selling them but he wondered whether they might be worth something. 

The neatly written "Property of Lily Evans" in the upper right-hand corner of many of them made the set priceless as far as he was concerned. 

Stepping into the shop, he was immediately reminded of Arthur Weasley's garden shed, filled from floor to ceiling with Muggle electronics, hardware, and items even Harry couldn't identify. 

The second thing he noticed was an old, musty smell like Mrs Figg's house if she'd had fewer cats. 

He looked around, trying to determine in which direction the till might lie, when he heard the crackling sound of a radio, followed by the garbled noises of one turning the dial. Then silence.

Harry moved deeper into the high shelves, occasionally ducking a low hanging cord from an ancient stereo system. 

A small incandescent lamp lit the small work space where long, thin fingers delicately dismembered the radio Harry had heard playing only moments before. His eyes trailed up to the man's face, where he found reading glasses perched at the end of an abnormally large nose.

It was then that the man looked up, eyes widening for a moment before narrowing in suspicion.

"Well, if it isn't Harry Potter," Snape rasped, a pained sound that made Harry want to massage his own throat in sympathy. "Come to arrest me at long last?"

"Arrest? What?" Harry shook his head and pulled the albums out from under his arm. "I was hoping to find out if these were worth anything." 

Curiosity apparently piqued, Snape took off his glasses. "Let's see then."

His thumb brushing across his mother's name, Harry held one out and Snape pulled it from his hand. "I found them in Mum's school trunk."

A flash of what Harry would only call anguish passed across Snape's features when he saw the signature. He proceeded to study the front cover, then flipped it to look at the reverse. Laying it on his desk—the transistor radio innards magically shifted out of the way—he pulled the record from the sleeve, a pleased gleam in his eye.

"First pressing, 1966. Cover in good, if not pristine, condition. Inner sleeve intact. Beatles memorabilia is always desirable. I believe you would fetch a pretty penny should you decide to auction it." Snape handed the album back to him and put on his glasses once more. "If there is nothing else...."

Harry opened and closed his mouth. Of course, there was more. He had a stack of albums he wanted to discuss but the more pressing issue was what on earth was Snape doing running an antique shop in the very town where Snape and Harry's mother had grown up? 

"I, er, had several more I'd hoped you would look at," Harry said. 

"I recommend arranging a visit from _Cash in the Attic_." Snape picked up a minuscule screwdriver and pulled all the pieces of the radio toward him with a wave of his hand.

"I don't want to sell them." Looking around the corner of the shop again, Harry spoke the words that he couldn't get out of his mind. "What are you doing here?"

"Attempting to make a living despite the best efforts of a particularly nosy Boy-Who-Lived," Snape grumbled. "Tell me, Potter, did you also find your mother's record player?"

"Oh, I don't know." He hadn't seen anything like a stereo system anywhere in the cupboard where he'd found her trunk. 

"You are looking for something red and white with two dials on the front. It says 'Automix' on it." He paused, closing his eyes for a moment. "It belonged to your grandparents."

"How do you—"

"Go, Potter." Snape bent his head and began reassembling the radio and ignoring Harry completely. "Do not return if you cannot find it."

Realising there was no point in staying any longer, Harry made his way to the door of the shop. Just before he opened it, he heard the radio again. This time the sound was crystal clear.

****

"I didn't expect to see you again."

"I found it." Harry grinned, carrying the old record player as well as a bag with an Undetectable Extension Charm on it, though he supposed Snape would be able to detect it without any trouble. "As well as a few other things."

Snape was standing in one of the aisles, carefully adjusting a row of clocks of various sizes. 

"Do they work?" Harry asked, setting the record player down on where he'd seen Snape working the last time he'd been in.

"Would you buy one if it didn't?" 

Harry laughed. "Probably not."

Snape approached him, walking slowly, a hint of a limp in his left leg. Harry wanted to ask if it was an effect of Nagini's venom or whether Snape had been injured in another way. There'd been rumours of rogue Death Eaters attacking war heroes for several years after the war and it was only in the last few years that Harry didn't have two Aurors shadowing his every move. 

He didn't get the chance though because he watched in awe as Snape trailed a finger around the edges of the record player before sitting down to open it as if it might contain all the Galleons in Gringotts. 

"Is this the one?" 

Snape looked at him and nodded. "Why don't you tell me, Potter, just where you found these items?"

"It turns out that my aunt Petunia inherited her parents' house when they died, being the older sister, I suppose." Harry rubbed at the back of his neck. It was a long story and Snape had never been one to tolerate meandering. Best to just get to the point as quickly as possible. "There was a cupboard where Mum had hidden some of her things when she left. When Aunt Petunia decided to sell the house, she asked me to empty it out."

Snape's eyes glittered. "She couldn't open it, could she?"

"Nope." Harry wiggled his fingers. " _Magic_."

"Your mother was clever that way." Snape plugged in the record player and then said, " _Accio_ Elvis!"

Harry just about burst out laughing, picturing a man in a white jumpsuit flying toward Snape's outstretched hand. However, it was simply a record that came sailing out of the backroom—Snape's living area?—and he placed it on the spindle.

_Wise men say only fools rush in...._

Snape's jaw tightened and he lifted the needle and placed it back at the beginning of the record. Harry didn't recognise the song though.

"It's still hard for me to believe you knew my mum."

"I had supper there once, near Christmas. Your grandmother played the Andrews sisters." Snape smirked. "Lily hated them, thought they were too old-fashioned."

"Like Celestina Warbeck?" Harry couldn't forget Molly Weasley's unending love of her ballads which were more likely to put Harry to sleep than get him in the mood for love.

"Similar, yes."

The bell on the door sounded and Snape rose from his chair, cutting off their conversation. "Show yourself out, Potter."

As he walked by, he heard the two elderly women with blue tinted hair asking after a particular china pattern that had been all the rage after the war. Snape lead them toward a cabinet filled with cups and saucers and Harry stepped out into the daylight.

****

"Tell me why you decided not to become an Auror."

Harry had an official reason that made sense in a way the average witch or wizard could understand. It was partly true, of course. His celebrity made that sort of work difficult. He'd tried it for about a year and either his team was requested specifically because he was Harry Potter or they were ambushed for the same reason. 

"The real reason, Potter," Snape said, eyebrow raised. 

With a shrug, Harry said, "I didn't want to kill anyone."

"Sensible." 

Harry took it as a compliment and beamed.

****

"She never liked Earl Grey." Snape lifted his cup and took a sip. "Simple black tea with milk and sugar."

Harry looked into the bottom of his teacup, hoping his impending death wasn't visible in the tea leaves. He'd come back to Snape's shop practically every day, pulling little details about his mother from him like gold nuggets to be treasured. Only twice—when Harry had made the mistake of mentioning first, his own father and second, Snape's father—had Snape thrown him out. 

"You were in love with her," Harry said, breaking the silence. 

Black eyes pierced his very soul.

"I loved her." Snape stood up and took the tea service away. 

Harry tried to puzzle out the difference as he watched the record going round and round on the turntable, needle rising and falling as it ran over the warped vinyl.

Watching Snape wash their teacups and set them in the rack to dry, Harry figured maybe it didn't make any difference at all.


End file.
